<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Problem Child by Sensue</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168860">Problem Child</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sensue/pseuds/Sensue'>Sensue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Suitcase of Memories [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Drama, Beating, Brotherhood AU, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Father-Son Relationship, Foster Care, Gen, Gossip, School</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:20:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sensue/pseuds/Sensue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brotherhood AU: Twelve-year-old, Caleb Reaves, overhears his teachers talking about him. Their gossip and assumptions about his character cause major drama for him. Dr. Ames jumps in to rescue him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Suitcase of Memories [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Problem Child</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Timeline: A few weeks after Caleb's taken in by Dr. Ames. The "honeymoon" is over. (Read Chapter 1 for a refresher). Brotherhood AU created by Ridley C. James and Tidia.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="separator">
  <p>
    <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n2G74I_Ffxg/YAO-VT3xfXI/AAAAAAAAAxo/tfHMW12rwW8BmrKfSCXAEMujnE3eGfcrwCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/problemchild_banner.jpg">
      
    </a>
  </p>
</div><p><strong>Note</strong>: I messed up the first chapter of this story was I was not as knowledgeable about how foster-to-adopt functions. How it works is you usually foster for a year, then you are eligible to adopt. Sometimes, it can be faster and takes months; depends on if the birth parents signed away their parental rights. I made it sound instantaneous… fill out paperwork and you got a kid. It doesn't work that way, sadly. So, I'm going to spread out the fostering for about six months prior to making it official.</p><p>-xxxxxxxx-</p><p>
  <strong>Problem Child</strong>
</p><p>Sitting in the Principal's office in front of the scowling headmistress brought back horrible, yet funny, memories of his childhood. The school itself hadn't changed in layout, nor design since he'd attended but for the new technology in the form of computers located in the new dedicated 'computer lab' as well as the fresh paint. All children had to learn how to use the keyboard and word processing programs before graduation. They were expensive, purchased with alumni donations or so he was told when he registered his new foster son to attend the prestigious private school.</p><p>He knew that there would be some type of adjustment period; the doctor was quite aware of the sudden change in circumstance that Caleb had found himself in. The twelve-year-old had spent the majority of his years in low to middle-class households. When he decided to become a single foster parent, he knew Caleb would need time to adjust to his family's upper-class way of life.</p><p>Perhaps it was wishful thinking that Caleb would be ready to attend the school that he did. Mackland rubbed his forehead as he listened to the headmistress' continued allegations against his son.</p><p>"Dr. Ames, you are a <em>saint</em> for taking that child in. However, I can't imagine that you had known the extent of the history of violence that boy has in his record. CPS tends to protect those kinds of details from the foster families or they'd refuse to let those children in the door! There is a strong likelihood that that young man will end up in prison… I've seen it before; wide-eyed families believing they are lead to fostering through God and not realizing the character of the child they've allowed into their homes. There's no shame in turning him away. There are places for those kinds of children."</p><p>Mackland had been quietly listening to the woman talk, waiting for her to pause before quietly asking her a question. "You're correct in that I did not read Caleb's full records." He had purposefully not asked to see them, wanting to judge him based on his present instead of a past perceived by those who didn't understand the struggles the young psychic had faced. "How did you get a hold of them?"</p><p>"As headmistress, I <em>do</em> have friends in CPS who were able to pull his records. I'm sorry to tell you that <em>that child</em> has documented conduct disorder. He's a thief, he attacked a police officer, and there are allegations that he may have murdered his previous foster family. He will need more care than you can give him alone, Dr. Ames." The severe gray-haired crone harped on as if she were doing him a favor in telling him these lies as if she was justified. "I feel that it would be best if you contacted his caseworker; I'm sure they'll have a group home suitable for him."</p><p>Gritting his teeth, he couldn't believe that the woman had worked with children for over thirty years. He cut her off before she could continue to spout her hateful opinion on the child to whom he was so connected. "I didn't quite realize that you had the gift of clairvoyance, Mrs. Olivier. I imagine if you did we would have many more interesting conversations. As it is, I'm not quite sure how you can determine a child's future based on a schoolyard fistfight? Perhaps you can enlighten me?" If Mac could kill with his sarcasm, the woman would be a pile of ash.</p><p>"Dr. Ames," Headmistress Olivier continued haughtily, "it was not just a schoolyard fistfight! He threw Mr. Frankel across the room, broke Mr. Bryan's nose, sprained Mr. Laurel's wrist, and knocked over a $1000 computer in the process."</p><p>"Caleb has defensive injuries – Mrs. Olivier, it was three-against-one." Mackland tried to get the woman to see reason.</p><p>"Oh, it's very <em>sweet</em> of you to think positively of that child, but it's clear that he's failing to adapt to this way of life. Since he's been enrolled, his language – Dr. Ames, I have not heard such filth in all of my years. He's disruptive to the learning environment and now, he's injured the sons of our most prestigious donors. We have no other option – we cannot allow him to remain a student at this school."</p><p>Mac nodded once, forcing himself to calm the sudden rush of fury. "Would it be possible for me to speak to his teachers before I take him away? I'd like to hear their point of view and get a sense of what their day-to-day experiences with Caleb was like."</p><p>Perking up that the new father was seeing things her way, Mrs. Olivier smiled. "Of course. I'll call them to join us." She stood up and indicated that she should follow him to the round table across from her desk. Calling out to the secretary sitting outside the door, the headmistress asked for Caleb's teachers to come to her office.</p><p>Mackland sat back in his chair, deep in thought until the room started filling with teachers. He recognized the homeroom teacher, the gym teacher, and the science teacher – but hadn't yet met the English or history educators. They sat in their chairs, all of them serious.</p><p>"Thank you for meeting with me. I know many of you from the orientation that I attended with Caleb, but I haven't had the pleasure of speaking with all of you. I'm Dr. Mackland Ames, and I'm Caleb Reaves's foster father. I had enrolled him in this school because it was I was an alumnus. While I anticipated there being a period of adjustment, it seems that Caleb was struggling more than I was aware of. I would like to get a sense of his, as well as your, day-to-day. It would help me to understand."</p><p>The history teacher was the first to start introducing himself as Mr. Benson. "Dr. Ames, I taught Caleb in history class; his behavior is startling. He seems fixated on violence: he wants to learn more about war, battles, and torture."</p><p>That made Mac look up in confusion, "And you feel this level of interest is greater than normal for his age-range?"</p><p>Mr. Benson huffed, "Yes, boys his age do indeed love to learn about bloody battles – but with Caleb's history, it was just asking for trouble encouraging bloodlust."</p><p>"Do all of you know about Caleb's history?" Mackland asked directly – not beating around the bush.</p><p>They all nodded or said 'yes'. With that, Mackland stood up and thanked the room without needing to hear anything else. "I would appreciate it if you could send my office his transcripts, I agree with your assessment that my son would be better off in a different school. I'll pick up Caleb from the nurse's office, and then help him clear out his locker. Please excuse me."</p><p>Striding out, he navigated the halls towards the nurse's office where Caleb was holding an ice pack over his eye. Three other boys were sitting across the room glaring until their parents arrived to take them to a doctor for treatment.</p><p>Mackland had checked in on him upon arriving mid-day at the school. Other than a few deep bruises across his arms, belly, and right eye, Caleb was alright. He'd offered his services as a physician to assist the school nurse in caring for her other three patients, but was denied as a conflict of interest.</p><p>Caleb didn't speak to him, ignoring his presence when he'd asked what happened. Mac was pulled aside by the Headmistress before he could get Caleb's version of events. Now, as he approached, the twelve-year-old turned his body away and wrapped his arms around his chest defensively.</p><p>"Caleb, let's get your bag and clear your things out of your locker. You won't be coming back here." Mac spoke softly, making sure the young men across the room didn't overhear.</p><p>The boy looked up at him with one eye. The right eye had swollen shut, even with the ice pack. Sliding off the medical table, Caleb followed him dejectedly. They walked down the quiet hall to where Caleb's locker was, moving aside to let him spin the combination to open the metal storage container. The rest of the students were in their classrooms unaware that the 'new kid' would soon be transferring out. Stepping in, Mac pulled out the backpack and supplies they'd purchased together a few short weeks ago to get ready for school. He was pleased to see several classic paperback novels in the stack from the gifted 'Three Musketeers' to 'All Quiet on the Western Front' and 'Slaughterhouse 5'. As the history teacher noted, they did have a war backdrop, but each was rich with messages of brotherhood and overcoming obstacles that the man missed in his self-assured judgment. Caleb took off the crest-patched uniform jacket and threw it in the locker disgustedly to leave behind.</p><p>They walked slowly towards the main doors, Caleb shuffling as if he were marching towards a death chamber. Once they got to the car, Mac opened the door for his son to slide in first. He watched as he winced bending down. Sliding in next to him, he asked, "How are you feeling, Caleb?"</p><p>Reaching out to examine his son's swollen eye, Mac immediately dropped his hand when Caleb flinched away and threw an arm up, clearly afraid. He'd backed up against the car door, moving his backpack between them as if it were a shield.</p><p>"Martin, could you please drive us to the park? I think we could use a bit of fresh air before heading home." Mac called out to his driver before sliding over closer to his side of the door to give Caleb a bit of space.</p><p>The park was close to the school and was filled with new mothers pushing baby carriages while jogging, as was the 'let's get physical' craze that seemed unending. He got out of the car, motioning that they'd be an hour to Martin. Caleb trailed behind, still looking wearily at his foster father.</p><p>They strolled for ten minutes in silence, then Mac led them to an unoccupied picnic table. Caleb sat down on a bench while Mac sat down on the grass a short distance away running his hands through the blades absentmindedly.</p><p>"What are you waiting for?" Caleb angrily snarled. His leg was bouncing in anxiety. His raised voice drew the attention of a couple of walkers, who stared for a few seconds before ignoring them to resume their conversation as was normal in NYC.</p><p>Mac looked over, then lay back to stare at the clouds barely visible through the smog of pollution. "I'm not waiting for anything. I'm taking a break, relaxing at the park. You're welcome to join me in cloud gazing. I think that one looks like a snowman." He pointed to the sky, projecting an aura of calm.</p><p>Caleb jumped up, hands clenched into fists. "Stop it!" His body language spoke of his agitation and anxiety.</p><p>Mac eased himself up to catch Caleb's eye, "Stop, what, son? I'm not doing anything."</p><p>Chest heaving, the boy spit, "Just get it over with! Don't pretend that you're fine with my getting kicked out of your old school."</p><p>"Caleb, I thought that you might be tired of <em>fighting</em> today. I'm not quite sure what you're expecting of me, but I'm sure that you've misunderstood." Patting the grassy area next to him, Mac softly ordered, "Sit down next to me and we'll talk."</p><p>"Talk?" Caleb was not mollified. "Just yell at me or hit me or whatever – just get it over with! Don't fuck with me."</p><p>Mac didn't respond in kind, keeping his tone soft. "Caleb, I would never raise a hand to hurt you. As for yelling, I don't find it very effective. I prefer discussing matters calmly and assumed you'd appreciate being treated like a young man instead of a child that needs to be scolded. I'd like to talk to you about what happened at school if you'd join me." He reached a hand, palm up waiting for his son to either walk away, or understand the gesture as one of unity.</p><p>Instead, Caleb threw himself on the grass, sitting and staring down at the older man. "Fine! Talk."</p><p>Considering the wide array of questions that Mac had, he started with an easy one. "What did you think of that school?"</p><p>Caleb ripped up a handful of grass and threw it in the air. "What?"</p><p>"How did you find attending that school? Did you enjoy going to class?"</p><p>"It's school. They're all the same except this one is filled with rich assholes and teachers who think they know everything."</p><p>Mac listened intently to what was <em>not</em> being said. "Did you make any friends? I know you haven't mentioned anyone when I ask you…"</p><p>The kid went back to anxiously pulling blades of grass to shred. "Who cares anyway? It's not like I'm going back there."</p><p>"Caleb," Mac asked tentatively, "why did those boys attack you?"</p><p>Many expressions flickered across his son's face from surprise to anger and shame. "How do you know I didn't attack them?"</p><p>"Because I know you."</p><p>"You don't know me!" Caleb yelled. "Just because I stayed with you for a few weeks doesn't mean that you know me."</p><p>Mac turned, resting his elbow on the ground then propping his face up towards Caleb. "What don't I know about you, Caleb? I would love to get to know you."</p><p>Turning away, the boy closed himself off. Mac allowed it and returned to his earlier position staring at the clouds for a few minutes. "Why didn't you tell me what was happening at school?"</p><p>"I didn't want to bother you," Caleb muttered. "You're always working."</p><p>Mac rubbed his mustache, considering the boy's point of view. "When I'm working, what is your perception of me? Am I studious or seem aloof to you?"</p><p>Caleb turned back, his face scrunched up, "I don't know. I don't see you. You're in your office and the door is closed." As he spoke, he ripped up another handful of grass.</p><p>Inhaling sharply, the doctor realized his mistake. It hadn't been intentional, merely a habit that he'd carried from the office into his home. "I'll need to change that then. From now on, my door will be open to you. I'll only close it if I am in the middle of a private or confidential meeting. Even so, if you need me, just knock and I'll invite you inside. It was my mistake and I thank you for pointing it out to me."</p><p>"You're sorry?" Caleb shook his head, "I don't get this, Mac."</p><p>Mac sat cross-legged and shuffled closer so that Caleb would be within his reach. "I'm apologizing for not realizing that I'd physically created a barrier that closed myself off to you and modifying my behavior to encourage open communication between us. In return, I'd like for you to feel comfortable enough to come in and speak to me about any concerns that you might have. I'm taking responsibility for my part."</p><p>"But, you didn't do anything wrong – hell, you're a saint for taking me in. You shouldn't have to deal with me; I'm not worth it. All I do is make trouble." Caleb's said dishearteningly. "I shouldn't even be here."</p><p>Mac gently lifted his chin to catch the eye that wasn't swollen shut. "How often do you hear those words?"</p><p>A tear slipped from his pained eye as he whispered, "every day".</p><p>"We'll find you a different school; one that won't pre-judge you based on what should have been confidential CPS records. I'll take care of making sure the records are sealed to anyone outside of your caseworker."</p><p>"You will?" Caleb asked timidly, still afraid of retribution.</p><p>"Yes. I'd like to know what interests you so we can find you a school that doesn't make you miserable." Mac patted his hand, "You don't need to hide how you feel from me. If anyone hurts you – physically or emotionally – I need you to come to me. What your teachers were saying to you borders on emotional abuse. It's not acceptable. And when you keep it from me, it prevents me from advocating for you and your well-being. My goal is to find a school that you will excel in. Education builds a foundation that you will use to structure the rest of your life."</p><p>Getting up off the ground, Mac held out a hand to his son and pulled him to his feet. "Let's get some ice cream and head home."</p><p>The ice cream truck was near the corner of the park and he bought them both chocolate cones as it was his son's favorite flavor. Caleb devoured the treat while Mac enjoyed it at a slower pace.</p><p>Guiding them back to Martin was parked across the road, he picked up the conversation where it left off. "Did you enjoy <em>any</em> of your classes?"</p><p>"I liked my art class. Miss Charlotte let me paint whatever I wanted. She was nice. I liked history too, but…"</p><p>"But?"</p><p>"Every time I asked a question, Mr. Benson would call me names. The kids would laugh at me."</p><p>"What kind of names?"</p><p>Shrugging, "I don't know. It doesn't matter, it was true."</p><p>"Son, I need to report this incident to Abe."</p><p>Caleb yelled, "No! You can't. Please, Mac, don't."</p><p>The cry alerted a couple of passersby, who saw the bruising on Caleb's face and immediately stepped between them. "Hey, kid. This guy bothering you?"</p><p>The one who spoke was a burly construction worker, still wearing his gear while he took a lunch break.</p><p>"No, he's my foster dad."</p><p>"He hurt you, kid?" The man looked like he would throw a punch, standing between the father and son. There was an air of tension as if he were waiting on the boy's word to strike.</p><p>"No," Caleb said genuinely, "he <em>saved</em> me. I got beat up at school and he came to pick me up. Everything is okay, man. You can go back to work."</p><p>The man relaxed his shoulders, then backed away to stand by his friend. Before he got too far away, Mac lifted his hand to the man to shake it. "I appreciate you coming over to check on us. I'm glad to know that if my son were in danger, there are people like you who would step up and try to protect him. Thank you."</p><p>The man gave a half-smile and shook the extended hand. "You're alright. Take care of the kid, okay? Have a good day."</p><p>Mac reached out a hand to place it on his son's shoulder; this time, Caleb didn't flinch away. They watched the men cross the street to work on their corner pothole. "Caleb, that reaction is the reason why I have to report this to Abe. It protects us both. It's a sad state of current affairs, but most people will assume that the male figure in your life is abusing you." He motioned for the boy to continue to the car waiting for them a block away.</p><p>Martin opened the car door for them, "Home, sir?"</p><p>"Yes, thank you, Martin."</p><p>-xxxxxxxx-</p><p>The first thing Mac did when they got home was to ask Caleb to sit down in the kitchen chair to take a look at his bruises. The kid has finger-shaped bruises on his wrists, held down as the boys punched him in the gut. The most worrisome was the deep red mark above his right kidney that looked like it had been caused by colliding with a corner of a table. It had been painful when the doctor pressed against the organ, trying to determine if he needed to take the boy to a hospital. Mac deemed it unnecessary but warned Caleb to immediately tell him if he saw blood in his urine.</p><p>Caleb was quick to escape to his room after the prodding, blasting the radio. He'd begged for a cassette tape recorder and a Walkman during their shopping trip so that he could listen to his favorite songs off the radio. Caleb would listen to the music for hours, waiting for the song that he was trying to catch for his mixed tape.</p><p>The doctor went into his office, shutting the door to keep Caleb from overhearing, then dialed Abraham Sullivan, Caleb's caseworker. The man answered with a few rings.</p><p>"Mr. Sullivan? This is Mackland Ames calling about an incident today at Caleb's school."</p><p>Mac could hear the man settle into his chair, sighing. "Please tell me the kid didn't get kicked out in his first two weeks?"</p><p>"Unfortunately, I cannot."</p><p>"What did he do?"</p><p>"You assume that Caleb did something?" Mac politely asked, subtly inflecting his voice in an accusatory way. He didn't like anyone assuming the boy was inherently bad. Abraham had seen Caleb at his worst; he'd been with him during his suicide attempt and his admission to the psych ward. Mac closed his eyes at the thought of Caleb hurting himself to escape the trauma seeing both sets of parents (birth and foster) die in the same way.</p><p>"Then why did he get kicked out?"</p><p>Sitting back in his chair, Mac redirected his question, "How could someone get a hold of Caleb's CPS record?"</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"Exactly what I said. How could someone get a hold of Caleb's CPS record? The headmistress claimed that she had a friend within your department that pulled the file for her. From that point on, all of Caleb's teachers were made aware of his and I quote, 'history of violence' and 'conduct disorder'. Everything that boy said, did, or believed was twisted into painting him as a dangerous trouble-maker."</p><p>"Well, shit – excuse my language. I'll look into it on my end and make sure it doesn't happen again."</p><p>"That would be appreciated."</p><p>"It still doesn't explain why he got kicked out of school?"</p><p>"He got into a fistfight with three boys; he's got some bad bruising. I'll write up a report and mail it to you. I don't have the details of the argument, but it was three-against-one. He was defending himself but the headmistress didn't believe him; she kept trying to convince me to give up on him and send him to a group home. I agreed with her that he needed to be transferred simply to remove him from that toxic environment. I made the decision the moment that I got the chance to personally experience their attempt to convince me to disrupt and 'send Caleb to a group home'."</p><p>"I'll contact the school to corroborate. I hate to say it but there's lots of bias against our kids. Through no fault of their own, they got dealt a bad hand; it's a shame that his past was used against him by his teachers. If you can also include photos of the injuries along with your report that would be wise. I'm sorry that the report got released before you got a chance to see it and that they used it to try to influence your journey. I hope it doesn't affect your plans to go through with the adoption?"</p><p>"My plans have not changed; the kid is stuck with me." He said it matter-of-factly. Once the decision was made, there was no chance of him changing his mind.</p><p>"I'm very glad to hear that, Mac. How's he been with you?"</p><p>"Up until today, I thought it was going well. More good days than bad days."</p><p>"Do you need additional assistance? Training or guidance on conduct disorder?"</p><p>"Not at this juncture. As you know, I have a medical degree in both neurology and psychology. Once he's feeling secure, I'll see about getting him retested and disproving that diagnosis. He's missing the key hallmark criteria; though I can see how they might have confused the oppositional behavior in their bias." The doctor was frustrated by the label. Conduct disorder was rooted in apathy, a lack of fear, and cruelty. Caleb lived in fear. Mac could see it in his body language, flinching away when things startled him. His son was incredibly empathetic but fought to hide it – protecting himself from rejection, disappointment, and hurt. There was a level of oppositional behavior with authority figures: police officers and medical personnel especially. Mac couldn't understand why he was the exception to the 'I hate doctors' rule just yet. Ultimately, the diagnosis was assigned by someone who didn't bother digging under the surface and simply checked off the boxes.</p><p>Abe smiled at that. He was distracted by a wave at his door so he ended the call with a "Thank you for calling me – I'll look into the security breach and reach back out to you. If you change your mind about additional resources, don't hesitate to call me. Oh, and tell the kid I said 'hey'."</p><p>"Thank you, Abe." With that, Mac hung up the phone.</p><p>Getting up, he opened the door to his office and made sure to slide a door-stop in the edge to remind himself against shutting it unless he had to. The music was loud coming from Caleb's room, so Mac knocked extra loudly until the sound was turned down and the door cracked open.</p><p>"Is Abe here yet?" Caleb asked from the inside of his room. The only thing Mac could see of him was his uninjured eye and the line of his body through the doorframe.</p><p>"No," Mac said, brow crinkling in confusion. "What are you doing?"</p><p>Throwing open the door, Mac saw the room in disarray. Caleb was stuffing clothing in a duffle bag. He held the Walkman in his hands, staring at the ground before murmuring, "Can I keep this?"</p><p>Mac didn't take the device from him, deciding to instead sit on the boy's bed so they were eye-to-eye. "It's yours; I'm not planning to take it away. I prefer to educate versus punish. Your possessions are your own. Are you planning to run away?" The doctor straight out asked. If Caleb decided to run away, which had been a concern brought forth by Abe during one of their sessions, Mac was sure he could find him a short time later. They were connected psychically; he didn't even think that he'd need to <em>touch</em> anything of his like he usually did to trigger his gift of psychometry.</p><p>"Isn't Abe coming to pick me up?" Caleb questioned, his shoulders high near his ears, rounded with tension.</p><p>"He's not coming to pick you up. He told me to tell you 'hey'. I'm not quite sure why 'hey' -as hey is for horses."</p><p>That led Caleb to roll his eyes and relax his shoulders, just as Mac intended with the 'dad joke'. Waiting for several breaths, Mac softly assured the boy. "Caleb, I told Abe and I'll repeat it to you – you're stuck with me. You don't need to worry about me 'rehoming you'. I won't."</p><p>Caleb huffed, "Simple as that? 'I won't.' How can I believe you?"</p><p>"That, I imagine, will take some time. You'll believe me once you start trusting me. Trust takes time to earn. We're still getting to know each other but, I'm sure we'll get there soon." Shifting awkwardly on the bed, Mac wiped at his mouth. "I'll be open with you and I hope that you'll return the favor…" A pregnant pause, "Abe needs me to write up a report on your injuries for documentation. He's asked me to take photos of your bruises. I hope that you'll help me with that…" It was an awkward request.</p><p>"What if I don't?" Caleb argued, defensive.</p><p>"I'll let Abe know you weren't comfortable with the photos and describe them in greater detail in my report. Which would you prefer?"</p><p>"No photos, Mac."</p><p>"Okay. I'll let him know… I <strong>do</strong> still need to know what happened if you're willing to talk about it."</p><p>Caleb shuffled, unsure, then pulled up his desk chair to sit across from his foster father. "Okay. What do you want to know?" He bit his thumb.</p><p>"What was the fight about?"</p><p>"Stuff." A non-answer.</p><p>Breathing, Mac started guessing. "Was it about your past?"</p><p>Caleb nodded once, then looked out of the window as if he could jump out of it to escape the conversation. "Dave and Mike overheard the teachers in the lounge talking about me. They told me that the teachers said that I was a thief, attacked some cops, probably sold drugs – junk like that. So, they wanted me to score them some marijuana; they didn't believe me when I said I didn't sell. They've been breaking into my locker, taking my backpack… they didn't find anything. But, it wasn't good enough. They thought I was carrying it in my jacket. Dave and Mike held me down while Aaron started going through my pockets. I fought back."</p><p>"I'm sorry, son." Mac stood from the bed, then projecting his intention, leaned down to wrap his arms around the boy.</p><p>It filled his heart with warmth after a few seconds, the hug was returned. "I'll make sure this doesn't happen again, Caleb. I promise. Just – please come to me if something is upsetting you."</p><p>"Okay." Caleb pulled away, then slipped the headphones over his head to play his music.</p><p>Mac smiled fondly, pointing at the piles of clothing and the mess around the room. He spoke loudly, "Next time, you may want to ask the plan before trying to pack all of your things. But, at least you have time to clean and reorganize before dinner since school is out."</p><p>"Wha'? no!" Caleb complained. "Seriously?"</p><p>"Yes, seriously – clean the mess up. I want it sparkling in here by dinner." Mac arched a brow, pointing at the mess, then left to get the paperwork started. He needed to research private schools with a strong art and history curriculum. He was convinced if he could find a set of teachers that Caleb would respect, he'd blossom under their tutelage.</p><p>Caleb watched as Mac walked away and back into his office. As he promised, the door was left open for him. It was such a little thing – but it meant so much more. His foster father was willing to <em>change</em> for him in order to prove that he was trustworthy.</p><p>Looking around the fancy bedroom and the comforts, hell they were extravagances, that the man provided him outside of the four walls, a meal, and a cot, he could start to believe in good again.</p><p>There were good people out there. He'd need more evidence to prove it, but he hoped Mac would be one of them.</p><p>Only time would tell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I messed up the first story in this series (many years ago) as was I was not as knowledgeable about how foster-to-adopt functions. How it works is you usually foster for a year, then you are eligible to adopt. Sometimes, it can be faster and takes months; depends on if the birth parents signed away their parental rights. I made it sound instantaneous… fill out paperwork and you got a kid. It doesn't work that way, sadly. So, I'm going to spread out the fostering for about six months prior to making it official.</p><p>I had to learn about conduct disorder, and it's dismal how a child can be labeled. Those who are diagnosed have a higher than normal probability of ending up in prison.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>